


Watch Your Codes

by zzzett



Series: Swesson Love Week July 2016 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Boner, Dom/sub Undertones, Gen, Hacking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzett/pseuds/zzzett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wesson should know better than to try to hack government authorities during work hours. Especially when he stumbles upon the dirty stash of a closer authority.</p>
<p>Prompt: Hacking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Your Codes

Heroes don’t always wear capes, though Sam Wesson didn’t think of himself to be one. Maybe he did occasionally use his hacking skills to fix unfairness in government networks or bring some douchebags down a peg. He never expected thanks- it just felt so fulfilling. Well, much more fulfilling than answering phone calls all day. 

He knew it wasn’t wise to do this at work, on a company computer, but it was a slow day and he covered his tracks well. So he looked around, making sure no one would see his screen, then quickly got to work -or crime, whatever- typing codes.

He hit enter, and jumped when the codes led him to porn gifs.

Gay porn gifs.

Gay _BDSM_ porn gifs.

It was challenging for a big guy to hide his startled reaction, but luckily no one was looking Sam’s way. He used his body to hide his screen, holding the frame tightly and staring too close at ripped male bodies bound, in suspension, forced to take cocks, teased and whipped and coming and coming-

By the time he managed to close the window, his face burned and he was half-hard. What a great day. A lesson well-learned that he should never try this at work.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder just whose debauchery he’d stumbled upon- maybe he could get blackmail material out of it, at least. 

To his astonishment, the IP address tracked back to a Sandover office. His calculations indicated it to be Dean Smith’s.

Dean fucking Smith; impeccably dressed, corporate genius, always on the cleanse. And apparently Mr. Grey in the flesh.

Sam was even more shocked that the thought made him grow harder in his seat.


End file.
